Camp Yoga-- Trivandrum
India does not want me to keep this blog; this entry was the third consecutively that I've had at least in part to re-write. This is such a characteristically Indian experience, the way a new problem occurs every time but with the same ultra-frustrating effect. But, for the time being at least, I shall not despair! The blog will go on!!
I should clarify-- my expressing frustration with India is not to say that I don't like it here or I'm not happy or anything like this. It's just that, in my experience-- as well as that of others here I've talked to, from what I can gather-- to experience India is at least in part to coexist with sometimes maddening circumstances.
Written yesterday, Dec. 17. Rewritten in part just now . . .
_________________________________________________
Hello!
This blog has become so much less of a burden since (a) I've stopped trying to write them beforehand and then transcribe, and (b) I don't feel like weeks have passed since the things I will be writing about happened. Without further ado:
Just today I ended a three-day stint at a place known as Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Dhanwantari Ashram, near to the southern-most tip of the subcontinent. It was interesting experience all-around . . .
A few days after meeting up once again with Christoph-- the German fellow who I met in the airport in Mumbai at the start of my time in India-- in Bangalore ("The Silicon Valley of India"), we decided we were interested in giving this yoga ashram we'd heard about a try. An 18 hour train journey, a few hours on a bus, and a short autorickshaw (a sort of a cross between a taxi and a moped) ride later, we were there, and wondering whether the three-days we had reserved (the minimum allowed) might be too long. How to explain . . . As we filled out the paperwork upon our late night arrival, the course title "Yoga Vacation", that I had somehow overlooked in considering participation beforehand all of a sudden was alarmingly apparent. The layout of the campus, the uber-rustic dormitories-- the whole place had the feel summer camp for new-age grown-ups. And Western grown-ups, to be sure . . .
Our first day began as all days at this place begin-- with a 5:20 am wake-up for 6 o'clock "Satsang," consisting of three parts: half-hour silent meditation, forty-five minutes plus of Hindu chants, and fifteen minutes of a sermon-like talk. The first day, however, was conducted differently, as it was the final morning for the students who had been there the previous two-weeks. Instead of the sermon, Satsang concluded with a Hindu
fire ceremony in which those willing throw blessed rice into a large flame--one of the Swamis (monks/priests) had built and fed it during the chanting-- one at a time and then prostrate themselves briefly before it. Mostly I had found the meditation physically uncomfortable, as I had forgotten to bring something such as a cushion to sit on. The chanting at first felt pretty strange to me, though as it went I started to see it as very much like the singing that constitutes so much of the synagogue and church services that I have known. In fact, it was so similar that I wonder whether it isn't created in part to satisfy the notions of religious service held by Western visitors. Though the fire ceremony felt foreign at first, on a certain level it reminded me of the Christian communion. I have to admit that the prostration element made me a bit uneasy. It wasn't the practice itself-- in fact I found it fascinating-- but rather the lack of prior knowledge that this place operated in such a religious way, and uncertainty of how this would manifest itself over the next 3 days.
In any case, the day proceeded in the regiment proscribed, as I was well aware it would. Indeed, it was part of the reason I was interested in this program in the first place; I wanted to see how this felt. Here's the schedule, straight from the website (www.sivananda.org/neyyardam):
Some details: Meals, said to be made according to Vedic proscription and absolutely wonderful, were conducted without speaking, which felt a bit odd at first. The less advanced of the yoga classes was aimed at beginners, and so suited me well. More on yoga: I feel confident that it would do me loads of good to pursue this in my life. I have dabbled only a little previously, and both before and especially now I have become conscious of just how tightly wound most of my body is, and how imbalanced it is as far as the left and right sides are concerned. One such imbalance that caused me a lot of trouble was my inability to sit comfortably with my legs crossed-- the staple position for life at this place-- as my left leg simply isn't flexible enough. Thus the problem for me with yoga is that its not very enjoyable a lot of the time--oftentimes I feel like I'm so far from being able to do the various poses that I'm note even stretching or engaging the intended areas. I think I'll look into some smaller group or personal instruction when I'm up north, perhaps in Rishikesh, said to be the very birthplace of yoga.
I've already spent far too long at this. There is more to be said about this experience; my hope is that with a bit more distance I'll be able to offer a more focused and colorful account of my time there. For now I'll say that I'm glad I went, which I'm struck may not be obvious from what I've said so far. I also hope to write about the time between that night being sick (where I left off last time) and deciding to visit Sivananda Ashram.
Goodbye for now!
--Josh
_________________________________________
So, to pick up where I left off . . .
As you may have perceived, I was fairly skeptical at the beginning, perhaps in part due to my experience in Sringeri (not that it was bad or I regret it . . . I'm thankful for it , in fact). But my skepticism was tempered by discussions with two so-called staff at the ashram. The first was one of our yoga teachers, early afternoon our first day there (during afternoon tea). He looked to be about late middle-age, and we (Christoph and myself) found out from talking to him that he was Canadian and formerly the owner of a restaurant in Ottawa. He had a certain dry cynicism about him that I found reassuring-- he seemed in many ways the antithesis of the flowery, wistful new ager. I asked him whether he considered himself a Hindu and what his relationship was with the Satsang that had struck me as so religious. He said he wasn't Hindu and didn't consider himself religious, but found value in the ritual in and of itself. Hearing this perspective from a man who had been spending most the year in such practice for most of the past decade led me to approach the remaining Satsang--and the place in general-- less defensively. I relaxed a bit, and found myself seeing the potential value in the various aspects of life at this place, as well as enjoying Satsang. I found the music really wonderful, once I let myself, and it was really very nice to sing along (or "chant") each morning and night-- though perhaps it lasted longer than I would have cared for ideally.
The second staff who influenced my experience and opinion positively was the director and head-swami himself. On our second day at Sivinanda, Christoph and I opted to go on a day-long excursion offered by the ashram to a nearby waterfall in the jungle, as it happened to be Friday, the "day off" (though still involving predawn wake-up and meditation, as well as evening Satsang). It was a really great day all around-- it's one of the few times I've managed to make it to a truly natural setting so far in India, and I felt very much in my element there. The waterfall was spectacular and the jungle was beautiful. Perhaps the best part about the trip was that it humanized some of the staff for me, among them this head-swami. An early middle-aged white fellow with short grey and brown hair and full but not long beard of the same color, I had found him a charismatic figure from the beginning (he led Satsang), despite whatever discomfort I may have felt. Getting to talk to him put the whole place in a different perspective. First, I should clarify that a swami is a "renounciant", meaning they've given up all material things, sexual relations, etc. I expected this guy to be fairly distant and inaccessible in conversation, but in fact he was friendly, personable, and just warm. And there was just a genuine humility, not just a feigned one. He had been born in Zimbabwe, and prior to taking up yoga full time he had become a pediatrician in England. He had renounced worldly things two years prior.
This outing had limited space, so it allowed for everyone to chat with everyone else more or less, the swami included. Over lunch, Christoph and I kind of grilled him (in a respectful, awed way) about his decision to give up so much and what that had been like, and his answers were genuine, quite personal, and made clear that he possessed what I would consider to be a great insight. His perspective was quite different from that of the yoga-teacher, in that he was actively very religious-- besides leading the daily religious ceremonies, he referred to his faith in God in certain answers to our questions (in a rather Judeo-Christian sounding way, actually). The effect of this was not intimidation or alienation, but rather I finally came to see Hinduism for what it can be. It looks on the surface like so many strange rituals to countless Gods-- or at least it's easy to see it this way-- and in fact I've heard more than one person say that many modern practicing Hindus have lost the inward, meditative spirit of the faith in the various rituals. I have been thinking about the relationship between Hinduism and Buddhism during my time here, and in this man the two seemed very close indeed, with one key difference-- faith in God as an important element. I have felt drawn to Buddhism for several years now, finding its rational, experience-based, and more or less secular approach a good fit for my existing worldview, and this remains the case. But this southern African swami managed to express faith in a way that I haven't felt before, and I will say that I found something about it appealing and somehow just plain sensible. Which isn't to say that I expect to live my life from here forward differently or that I'm going to undergo some sort of conversion or something like this. But I can feel that my perspective has shifted, though so subtly that I cannot really say how at this point in time.
Our stay in the Ashram ended mid-day on our third day. We could have stayed longer, and contemplated it, but neither of really cared to. I think more than anything else we weren't mentally prepared for a more extended stay than we had already undertaken. But practical matters were also causing problems, namely a lack of sleep. By this third day I felt exhausted and just kind of crappy, as I was having trouble getting to sleep and so the early wake-up was doing me in. My left leg hurt from trying to sit cross legged all the time, and in my tiredness I was feeling extremely frustrated at my inability to meditate on account of discomfort. And the highly controlled food intake. So we checked out, got our "exit pass" (necessary to be let out!), and headed straight for the city, with all its vices (onions and non-spiritual music, for instance).
Okay, that was DEFINITELY enough. You must really be a loyal friend or relative if you're reading this!!
Sincerely yours,
Josh
I should clarify-- my expressing frustration with India is not to say that I don't like it here or I'm not happy or anything like this. It's just that, in my experience-- as well as that of others here I've talked to, from what I can gather-- to experience India is at least in part to coexist with sometimes maddening circumstances.
Written yesterday, Dec. 17. Rewritten in part just now . . .
_________________________________________________
Hello!
This blog has become so much less of a burden since (a) I've stopped trying to write them beforehand and then transcribe, and (b) I don't feel like weeks have passed since the things I will be writing about happened. Without further ado:
Just today I ended a three-day stint at a place known as Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Dhanwantari Ashram, near to the southern-most tip of the subcontinent. It was interesting experience all-around . . .
A few days after meeting up once again with Christoph-- the German fellow who I met in the airport in Mumbai at the start of my time in India-- in Bangalore ("The Silicon Valley of India"), we decided we were interested in giving this yoga ashram we'd heard about a try. An 18 hour train journey, a few hours on a bus, and a short autorickshaw (a sort of a cross between a taxi and a moped) ride later, we were there, and wondering whether the three-days we had reserved (the minimum allowed) might be too long. How to explain . . . As we filled out the paperwork upon our late night arrival, the course title "Yoga Vacation", that I had somehow overlooked in considering participation beforehand all of a sudden was alarmingly apparent. The layout of the campus, the uber-rustic dormitories-- the whole place had the feel summer camp for new-age grown-ups. And Western grown-ups, to be sure . . .
Our first day began as all days at this place begin-- with a 5:20 am wake-up for 6 o'clock "Satsang," consisting of three parts: half-hour silent meditation, forty-five minutes plus of Hindu chants, and fifteen minutes of a sermon-like talk. The first day, however, was conducted differently, as it was the final morning for the students who had been there the previous two-weeks. Instead of the sermon, Satsang concluded with a Hindu
fire ceremony in which those willing throw blessed rice into a large flame--one of the Swamis (monks/priests) had built and fed it during the chanting-- one at a time and then prostrate themselves briefly before it. Mostly I had found the meditation physically uncomfortable, as I had forgotten to bring something such as a cushion to sit on. The chanting at first felt pretty strange to me, though as it went I started to see it as very much like the singing that constitutes so much of the synagogue and church services that I have known. In fact, it was so similar that I wonder whether it isn't created in part to satisfy the notions of religious service held by Western visitors. Though the fire ceremony felt foreign at first, on a certain level it reminded me of the Christian communion. I have to admit that the prostration element made me a bit uneasy. It wasn't the practice itself-- in fact I found it fascinating-- but rather the lack of prior knowledge that this place operated in such a religious way, and uncertainty of how this would manifest itself over the next 3 days.In any case, the day proceeded in the regiment proscribed, as I was well aware it would. Indeed, it was part of the reason I was interested in this program in the first place; I wanted to see how this felt. Here's the schedule, straight from the website (www.sivananda.org/neyyardam):
5:30am | Wake-up | ||
6:00am | Satsang (group meditation, chanting and talk) | ||
7:30am | Tea time | ||
8:00am | Asana class (breathing exercises, postures; relaxation; separate classes for beginners and intermediate) | ||
10:00am | Vegetarian meal (moderately spiced) | ||
11:00am | Karma Yoga (selfless service) | ||
12:00pm | Lecture (talk on various aspects of yoga) | ||
13:30am | Tea time | ||
14:00pm | Optional Asana Coaching Class | ||
15:30pm | Asana class (beginners and intermediate level) | ||
18:00pm | Vegetarian meal | ||
20:00pm | Satsang (group meditation, chanting and talk) | ||
22:30pm | Lights out | ||
Some details: Meals, said to be made according to Vedic proscription and absolutely wonderful, were conducted without speaking, which felt a bit odd at first. The less advanced of the yoga classes was aimed at beginners, and so suited me well. More on yoga: I feel confident that it would do me loads of good to pursue this in my life. I have dabbled only a little previously, and both before and especially now I have become conscious of just how tightly wound most of my body is, and how imbalanced it is as far as the left and right sides are concerned. One such imbalance that caused me a lot of trouble was my inability to sit comfortably with my legs crossed-- the staple position for life at this place-- as my left leg simply isn't flexible enough. Thus the problem for me with yoga is that its not very enjoyable a lot of the time--oftentimes I feel like I'm so far from being able to do the various poses that I'm note even stretching or engaging the intended areas. I think I'll look into some smaller group or personal instruction when I'm up north, perhaps in Rishikesh, said to be the very birthplace of yoga.
I've already spent far too long at this. There is more to be said about this experience; my hope is that with a bit more distance I'll be able to offer a more focused and colorful account of my time there. For now I'll say that I'm glad I went, which I'm struck may not be obvious from what I've said so far. I also hope to write about the time between that night being sick (where I left off last time) and deciding to visit Sivananda Ashram.
Goodbye for now!
--Josh
_________________________________________
So, to pick up where I left off . . .
As you may have perceived, I was fairly skeptical at the beginning, perhaps in part due to my experience in Sringeri (not that it was bad or I regret it . . . I'm thankful for it , in fact). But my skepticism was tempered by discussions with two so-called staff at the ashram. The first was one of our yoga teachers, early afternoon our first day there (during afternoon tea). He looked to be about late middle-age, and we (Christoph and myself) found out from talking to him that he was Canadian and formerly the owner of a restaurant in Ottawa. He had a certain dry cynicism about him that I found reassuring-- he seemed in many ways the antithesis of the flowery, wistful new ager. I asked him whether he considered himself a Hindu and what his relationship was with the Satsang that had struck me as so religious. He said he wasn't Hindu and didn't consider himself religious, but found value in the ritual in and of itself. Hearing this perspective from a man who had been spending most the year in such practice for most of the past decade led me to approach the remaining Satsang--and the place in general-- less defensively. I relaxed a bit, and found myself seeing the potential value in the various aspects of life at this place, as well as enjoying Satsang. I found the music really wonderful, once I let myself, and it was really very nice to sing along (or "chant") each morning and night-- though perhaps it lasted longer than I would have cared for ideally.
The second staff who influenced my experience and opinion positively was the director and head-swami himself. On our second day at Sivinanda, Christoph and I opted to go on a day-long excursion offered by the ashram to a nearby waterfall in the jungle, as it happened to be Friday, the "day off" (though still involving predawn wake-up and meditation, as well as evening Satsang). It was a really great day all around-- it's one of the few times I've managed to make it to a truly natural setting so far in India, and I felt very much in my element there. The waterfall was spectacular and the jungle was beautiful. Perhaps the best part about the trip was that it humanized some of the staff for me, among them this head-swami. An early middle-aged white fellow with short grey and brown hair and full but not long beard of the same color, I had found him a charismatic figure from the beginning (he led Satsang), despite whatever discomfort I may have felt. Getting to talk to him put the whole place in a different perspective. First, I should clarify that a swami is a "renounciant", meaning they've given up all material things, sexual relations, etc. I expected this guy to be fairly distant and inaccessible in conversation, but in fact he was friendly, personable, and just warm. And there was just a genuine humility, not just a feigned one. He had been born in Zimbabwe, and prior to taking up yoga full time he had become a pediatrician in England. He had renounced worldly things two years prior.
This outing had limited space, so it allowed for everyone to chat with everyone else more or less, the swami included. Over lunch, Christoph and I kind of grilled him (in a respectful, awed way) about his decision to give up so much and what that had been like, and his answers were genuine, quite personal, and made clear that he possessed what I would consider to be a great insight. His perspective was quite different from that of the yoga-teacher, in that he was actively very religious-- besides leading the daily religious ceremonies, he referred to his faith in God in certain answers to our questions (in a rather Judeo-Christian sounding way, actually). The effect of this was not intimidation or alienation, but rather I finally came to see Hinduism for what it can be. It looks on the surface like so many strange rituals to countless Gods-- or at least it's easy to see it this way-- and in fact I've heard more than one person say that many modern practicing Hindus have lost the inward, meditative spirit of the faith in the various rituals. I have been thinking about the relationship between Hinduism and Buddhism during my time here, and in this man the two seemed very close indeed, with one key difference-- faith in God as an important element. I have felt drawn to Buddhism for several years now, finding its rational, experience-based, and more or less secular approach a good fit for my existing worldview, and this remains the case. But this southern African swami managed to express faith in a way that I haven't felt before, and I will say that I found something about it appealing and somehow just plain sensible. Which isn't to say that I expect to live my life from here forward differently or that I'm going to undergo some sort of conversion or something like this. But I can feel that my perspective has shifted, though so subtly that I cannot really say how at this point in time.
Our stay in the Ashram ended mid-day on our third day. We could have stayed longer, and contemplated it, but neither of really cared to. I think more than anything else we weren't mentally prepared for a more extended stay than we had already undertaken. But practical matters were also causing problems, namely a lack of sleep. By this third day I felt exhausted and just kind of crappy, as I was having trouble getting to sleep and so the early wake-up was doing me in. My left leg hurt from trying to sit cross legged all the time, and in my tiredness I was feeling extremely frustrated at my inability to meditate on account of discomfort. And the highly controlled food intake. So we checked out, got our "exit pass" (necessary to be let out!), and headed straight for the city, with all its vices (onions and non-spiritual music, for instance).
Okay, that was DEFINITELY enough. You must really be a loyal friend or relative if you're reading this!!
Sincerely yours,
Josh
posted by Josh at 8:23 PM
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